Lipstick
by Wordgawk
Summary: Who says lipstick is boring? Not Dante when Trish has some!


Author's note: I had originally wrote this drabble for a contest which did not see the light of day. A bit more editing and ta-dah! A fanfic. This story brought back nostalgia for that first DMC story I wrote for since these two characters were in it. Ahhhh...

I wrote this way before playing DMC4. After completing the game and recalling DMC4's mission 13 flashback featuring Dante and the ladies, I remembered I had this story. Characters belong to Capcom. Review away!

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Lipstick

Dante had been observing her for a long time. Inside their dingy demon hunting office, he and his sidekick Trish were waiting for the glorious sound of the phone to ring. No clients complained about demon infestations today. What a slow night. He sat at his desk with his feet propped up but that could only keep him occupied so long before his legs fell asleep.

Trish, however, was seated on his burgundy leather couch. On the table in front of her lay a spread of lipstick tubes and a box of tissues. She'd pick up a stick, examine its hue and try it on. Then she'd peer at her hand mirror, make varied expressions, and then wipe off the shade before starting over again. Sometimes she would look down at her black leather top to compare. Something about matching? This went on for almost 15 minutes.

The silver-haired man rose from his chair and stretched out behind her. He splurged for this loveseat and may as well take advantage of its comfort. Screw waiting by the phone.

Dante really had to buy an answering machine. He dreamed about it. Literally. The other day he had flipped through some home decorating magazine in his junk mail for kicks. This morning he awoke to remember his dream machine. A glossy, sexy black one with the biggest "play" button to press so his eyes wouldn't need to search for it. The dream was so real, he felt the freedom of walking away from his desk during office hours without worry of unanswered calls if neither of them were around.

Trish leaned over and kissed a spot on his cheek. She held up her mirror for him to see. A frosted pink smooch mark glowed against his skin. "I like this one. Doesn't that look wonderful?"

"Geez. The least you could have done is use red. Match my outfit." Dante gestured to his leather-clad ruby form. He had a weakness for the color.

Trish nodded exuberantly and put down the mirror. "Got it." She picked up a tube of cherry lipstick and popped off the cap.

Dante sighed. "You're kidding."

"It's fun. Don't you know how to have fun?" She pouted cutely. Her long hair draped her face, making her more adorable.

Dante smiled charmingly. "I do." He adroitly reached over to swipe the tube from Trish's hand. He wanted to decorate too. She, having just as quick reactions as he, tightened her grip. A streak of bright scarlet next to her mouth was their result.

Trish blinked in surprise. Dante held back a chortle. The next thing he knew, the infuriated lady leaped on top of him, threatening with a yell to scribble crimson all over his face. Dante laughed, using her struggling against his hands to his advantage. Trish was so intent on doodling on him that he easily turned her illustrating elbow out to bring her hand close to her chest. With ample skin as a drawing board, the mischievous man managed to mark a sloppy letter "T" on her chest. While he smirked over this, Trish let out another protest, much louder. She worked harder to shove the lipstick in his face, wiggling much more.

"Don't draw on me!" Trish gritted her teeth.

"Hey, you were asking for it!" Dante retorted.

"Oh, you're asking for something, all right!" A crackle of sunshine yellow lightning sparked down her arms.

Not about to put up being fried and having the contents inside the tube melt on him too, Dante knocked the lipstick out of her hand and yanked her hard in his lap. Trish's electrocution cut off.

"Let me fix that for ya," he murmured. "No need for violence." Dante smoothed away her messy blonde locks behind her ear, letting his trailing fingers linger on her soft cheek. The adamant woman fell quiet, tenderly gazing at him. He leaned in close and his slow, roving mouth brushed against the redness. The tip of his tongue slid out to trace a moist path following his kiss. He licked again.

Trish smiled and tilted her face slightly, teasing his lips with hers. She curved her nimble hands over his broad shoulders. Dante's grin widened. See, he knew how to have fun.

The phone jangled. They ignored it. Let the answering machine take the message.

-- THE END --


End file.
